Unexpected Aftershock
by JustSomeGuy15
Summary: Post game, one week. A mysterious organization wants Larsa's head. Is it betrayel? Or a common hatred? Chapter 3: A new face, vital information, and a fearsome battle.
1. Unexpected Aftershock

_**Unexpected Aftershock**_

_A Final Fantasy XII fiction. _

Author's Notes

The time has come for another aspiring writer such as myself to jump on the band-wagon, and start working on a new collective work. I've already drawn up several plots and plot archs for this work, so I'm looking forward to see where I can go with it. For now, there is no official "type" of story. I planned on making it with mixed elements, such as adventure, angst, maybe light romance. We'll just have to see where it all goes. There is also no official pairings for this story, as they will be randomized later on as the story continues. Which means Larsa could be paired with a random bangaa for for all we know.

Okay, not really. But my point is, I haven't decided on pairings, or even if I want them. So it'll be left as a surprise. So for now, any early romance will simply be implied, such as into thoughts, or desires. As a final note—as the summery says-- this fic is post game, so there is a good chance there will be spoilers included. Still, I hope that doesn't stop you from reading something I actually hope to take somewhere past the first three chapters. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

**Unexpected Aftershock**

_His dreams were filled with nightmares, each one a spiraling wave of terror, anguish. Evil spirits and thoughts tormenting so innocent a mind, one would think it simply barbaric. It seemed as though his mind was a swirling vortex of evilness, multiple faces being set before him, each one more terrifying than the last. First there came the images of the Judge Magistrates. Ghis, Drace, Zargabaath, Bergan... and Gabranth. All five of them were advancing upon him, their helmet-less faces twisted in agony, armored limbs reaching out for him. His sight suddenly flushed, the images of the deceased Judges drifting out of his vision, and was replaced with a sight that seemed to rip out his very soul._

_The boy was standing in a room, plain at most, with only a few pieces of furniture. However, the room carried a strange tint of light red. Off to the right, a shadowed form stared out of a large window, beyond which there was only a dark chasm of death and fire. _

"_Who are you? Why are you here?" Said the tiny figure._

_The shadowed figure turned to reveal the face of Vayne Solidor, his skin of an eerie green color, eyes set deep in his skull, white as paper. "You've arrived." Said he, voice over-lapped with another, as if speaking with two different sounding voices at the same time. "Now that you've arrived... please stay awhile. And I promise I won't keep you long..."_

_The other-worldly voice trailed off as the image of the elder Solidor shrunk, transforming into a bulking wolf, its fur black as night, with glinting teeth filed to the points, sharp as razors. "I'll keep you forever... in death's embrace." The voice returned._

_The boy barely had time to react, as the monster suddenly leapt forward, its powerful jaws intended for his face. When suddenly..._

"GABRANTH!" Larsa suddenly jolted upward from the desk he had been sitting in, the former guardian's name having echoed in the room. Almost in an instant, an armored figure was at the boy's side, glancing down at him with worried eyes.

"My lord, what is it? Are you well?"

The younger one gasped several times, still trying to capture his lost breath from the freakish nightmare. "I'm fine, Basch...thank you for your concern."

Basch nodded, taking all but one step backward, "Perhaps that is enough work for today... you need your rest." Apparently, the guardian hadn't even realized the Emperor had fallen asleep in the middle of his work.

"I can no longer sleep, Basch. The nightmares have very much jolted my senses. I should be able to work, now."

And with that, the boy picked up a nearby ink pen and began to write upon a parchment set before him. Basch resumed staring out the window which brought in warm sunshine, lost in his thoughts. The day was beautiful, the sky being the most gorgeous shade of blue with no sign of clouds. All of Archadia seemed more alive than usual, the various races now out in the street, doing this and that. But they did not matter to the man. All that he could think about lately... was her. He had tried to hide it, but even Vaan would be able to tell about his feelings. Even Larsa had caught him in his state of brooding. Because of this, Basch had decided to keep his daydreaming for private time, when he was alone and no longer needed to over-see Larsa's upbringing, or his protection.

"It seems something troubles you, Basch."

Larsa's voice suddenly broke him from his thoughts, he turning around to be met with the boy's stare. "I was only admiring the day, Lord Larsa--"

"You were thinking about Lady Ashe again... weren't you?"

Truly, the boy was too smart for his own good. Not that it was a bad thing, for a simple-minded boy would certainly not be a proper Emperor of Archadia. But like before, Larsa had caught Basch off-guard, seeing right through his attempts to cover it up. "Do you think it wrong that I remember her, Majesty?"

The boy shook his head, "I do not know, but I will say this only once, Basch." He paused, looking back down to his writing, the pen writing strange symbols that were Ivalice's language, "I require a guardian who is wholly devoted to the Empire, and to House Solidor. Lady Ashe is the Queen of Dalmasca, now, and you are my guardian." Another pause, he stopped writing, and looked back to Basch, as if to make sure the man was paying attention. "Do not mistake me, I am not saying it is wrong to love. But it cannot be, Basch. If you so wish it, then I will give you freedom. Free to return home to Dalmasca, and to your queen. Is that what you want, Basch?"

Basch could not speak, he was almost stunned by how Larsa spoke, weaving each and every word as though it were a master designer, creating a blanket of gold. After drinking in the words is when he managed to speak, "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I do not mean to dishonor House Solidor, or Archadia. I've fully committed myself to your protection, just as my brother had wanted. What sort of man would I be if I allowed my heart to be consumed by fickle romance, betraying Gabranth's last wish? I couldn't live with that."

Larsa seemed pleased by that answer, but continued to speak regardless, "I am glad to hear that, Basch. After Gabranth died, I thought I was all alone... he was always kind to me, but gave such excellent advice. I consider myself lucky to have gained his twin brother as his replacement." He paused, glancing down at the armor which Basch wore... it was Gabranth's armor, and it nearly pained him to look upon it. It had a familiar look to it, but the man which now wore it was far from it. It had only been a week after Larsa was appointed Emperor, and still he felt as though he barely new his new guardian. It was to be expected, of course, but he couldn't deny that it gave him a sense of un-ease. The feeling was mutual, it seemed, and that it would soon pass.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored to serve House Solidor." And with that, he man moved off to the right of the seat in which Larsa sat, staring out over the open door to the room. The occasional guard or scribe passed by in the hall, barely even noticing that the Emperor sat within the study. Always, the pitter-patter of boots upon marble resonated into the room, Larsa showing an obvious disapproval of the noise.

"Basch... close those doors, please. I cannot concentrate."

Without a word, the man stepped forward and into the hall, pulling closed the double doors with a faint clatter of wood. The hall was small by most standards, a single red carpet wove in between four lines of bookshelves that lined the sides. At the end of the carpet, a slightly up-risen square of floor held a simple oak desk with two chairs, the three walls surrounding it each having two windows, for an excellent view of the surrounding land. It appeared as though Larsa was doing his daily studies. After all, he was still a child, despite being Emperor, and thus had to attend a brief schooling session which Basch over-saw.

"Basch..." Larsa called the guardian back to his side, creating a small gesture towards the paper which he wrote upon, "... I cannot figure this out. Can you help?"

Without so much as a nod, Basch took his place at the boy's side, explaining the different ways of confronting his studies.

* * *

The inside of the airship jolted, as the smaller-than-most craft took an abrupt left turn, causing its passengers to send angry mutterings amongst thenselves.

"Sorry about that!" Came a rather cheery male's voice from the front.

In truth, Vaan was getting tired of carting these Archadian aristocrats and messengers wherever they pleased, bossing him around as though he were their slave. Which, in some cases, he kind of was. Barely three days after departing from Archadia, he and Penelo received an urgent message from Larsa himself, that airship pilots were coming up short, for one reason for another. So, the two had to temporarily give up their 'freedom' in order to transport messengers, scribes, scholars, and all manner of people to different areas. It really wasn't so bad, as the thrill of piloting through the skies on his own was joy in itself. Not to mention, he could flip and turn this way and that, further angering the passengers.

"All right, Vaan, no more games. We still have more people waiting to be transported after this, so let's get back already." The ever sweet tone of Penelo's voice came from the other side-seat.

Like Vaan, she started to hate this herself. Even though she'd never verbally express it, since Larsa needed their help, so it was a good thing in itself. This wasn't the first time she had to tell Vaan to stop goofing around, she nearly shouting at him after turning a barrel-roll mid-flight. Thankfully, everyone was tightly strapped into their seats, so the worst thing that came out of it was a chorus of shouting passengers, whom were probably more willing to dive out right then and there than continue riding. But still, she knew it couldn't all be serious, not all the time at least. So, she learned to deal with it, and even let him get away with one or two antics, leading him to believe she hadn't noticed.

The communications system between the two pilots suddenly crackled to life, as a voice came over the loud-speaker, "Air Base to Tonberry One, do you copy."

Penelo grabbed a nearby speaking device, clicked it on, and replied, "This is Tonberry One. Requesting admittance into dock number zero-three-seven-five."

There was a pause, as the man on the other end registered info into the computer. "Copy that, Tonberry One. Dock zero-three-seven-five cleared and ready for landing."

Vaan quickly steered the airship into a nearby pilot dock, where there stood several lines of people on either side. The two deducted that they were the next passengers they would have to transport. Slowly, the ship turned upon one side, until it slowly descended onto the landing dock, until it finally landed upon the dock with a loud rumble. Almost instantly, two doors on either side opened up to form a step-ladder down onto the docks, the passengers quickly filing out, glad to be away from the two young pilots. "Tonberry is down, awaiting next assignment. Tonberry, out." Penelo then clicked off the small device, and set it back upon the overhead board.

Not long after, a rather gruff looking bangaa entered the airship, a strange tool clung over his left shoulder. "Looksss like you damaged the port side again, eh boy? That'sss coming out of your pay."

"I'm surprised you mongrels are even paying us," Vaan grumbled as soon as the mechanic was out of earshot.

Ignoring the comment, Penelo undid her safety harness, and stood up, "Well, since we have to wait, might as well get some air. Come on."

Vaan quickly followed suit, having been seated in the the airship for well ever three hours. It'd be nice to stretch his limbs, and get some air in him, before he'd be forced to remain shackled to the chair again. The two stepped out onto the main boarding dock, and, as they expected, another group of various persons awaited their boarding. The airship was surrounded by humes, bangaa, and even a seeq whom appeared to be the lead technician, issuing orders to the group. Vaan seemed displeased at the site of the seeq, and attempted to get away... but it was too late.

"Don't think yer' getting' away that easily, Vaan!" Shouted the creature as he advanced upon the two orphans, his massive girth jiggling in away that made Vaan dry-retch.

"This is the third time this week I 'ad ta send mah boys down 'ere to fix this ship! When're you gonna learn how to fly the damn thing, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Shur'gil, but it wasn't my fault, honest! Your mechanics didn't fix the aerial breaks, and--"

"So yer' sayin' this is my fault? I'll have you know, I'm the Emperor's most trusted airship mechanic!" Shouted the seeq, obviously angry.

Unable to take much more of this, Penelo stepped in, shoving at one of Vaan's shoulders as a sign to back off. "It was my fault, Shur'gil. I wasn't paying attention, and the ship nearly flipped mid-air. You should thank Vaan, he's the one who prevented us from crashing."

Shur'gil barely noticed Vaan's dumbfound expression, and shook his head, "Be that as it may, you can't keep wreckin' these ships. One more mistake, and you're both gonna have ta' go." Without another word, he lumbered off, attending to a hume who didn't know how to properly install a new screw.

Once the two orphans were out of hearing range, Penelo started the usual rant, "I'm tired of taking up for you, Vaan. When are you going to grow up and take responsibility for yourself for once?"

Vaan didn't reply at first, he seemed lost in his own world, always staring skyward. It wasn't until he ran head on into a viera that he realized where he was. "Watch where you're going, hume." Said the female, brushing her scantily clad figure past him, and continued on her way. With a sneer, Vaan finally faced the other blond, "What do you mean grow up? I'm almost eighteen, I've--"

"Then start **ACTING** like it!" The other quickly retorted with an accusing finger. "I've always taken up for you. When you were daydreaming and scraped the side of the ship into a skyscraper, nearly tearing off one door, I took up for you. When you insisted in trying to talk with a viera passenger and ran right into a flock of birds that shattered the window, I took up for you. When--" Penelo seemed content to ramble on and on about every little thing.

"OKAY! I get the picture, Penelo. No need to rub it in."

"I'm just trying to make you see that eventually in your life, you need to take responsibility, and accept punishment when you mess up. Is that really so hard to do?"

"I don't know. I guess its this place... I still hate it, I guess."

The Archadian Empire was the one who stole away Vaan's brother, along with Penelo's family. Even though it was Vayne who caused it all, Vayne was of Archadia, and it was the Archadia Judge Gabranth who killed Reks. Thus, Vaan still held resent to the Empire, and probably would until the day he died.

"And what of Larsa, Vaan? Is he not part of Archadia, also? Who helped us over-throw Vayne not long ago?"

Like always, she had a point. Maybe he was still rattled about the last battles... everything that happened because of it. It had only been a week since Larsa took up the Archadian throne, and Basch as his guardian. Having Basch as such a high position made Vaan feel as though he stood out from the rest. Just the other night, Basch allowed him to sneak into the mess hall and steal whatever food was left for himself and Penelo. However, that was only under the warning that if he was caught, he would be punished as though he were a common thief.

"Vaan?"

"Huh?"

Vaan snapped back into realization, just as a voice boomed over a set of speaker phones settled directly above where the two were standing. "Tonberry One pilots, report to dock number zero-three-seven-five. Repairs are complete, passengers are boarded, and ready to be transported to Rabanastre."

"That's us, let's go, Vaan." Penelo seemed to perk up at the mention of having to return to Rabanastre. It seemed ages since she saw the city in which she grew up. Even Vaan had a bit of haste in his step, despite how much he wasn't looking forward to being forced to fly anywhere. Still, it would be nice to be in Dalmasca again, as recently all the two had transported people to were outlaying towns and fortifications of Archadia. Sometimes people, sometimes supplies, they were like a mail system, the very thought made Vaan laugh.

Almost the moment the two stepped onto the ship and into their respective seat, they heard a dark-haired researcher remark to his assistant, "Humph, two blond pilots. I expect we'll be seeing fish swim by our windows after we've crashed into the sea."

After making sure everyone was secure, Vaan leaned into the aisle, fixing the man an evil grin, "More like stampeding monsters, since we're not passing over any body of water."

And with that smug remark, the ship jolted off of the the dock, Penelo hitting a small switch before her, and the ship burst off into the air, the screams of its passengers heard even from the dock.

* * *

Back in the study, Larsa was once again returning to his studies, although he had started out with a fresh sheet of paper, two separate piles next to either side of his hands. To his left, a small pile of blank paper, for when he had to start over due to a grievous error, or when he had to start on a new one altogether. And to his right, papers filled on almost every possible surface with micro-font, explaining one thing or another. Basch remained always nearby, watching as airships came and went from the dock, and even dangerously close to the window, much to Larsa's disliking. The sound of pen-point dragging across paper halted, as once again Larsa looked up upon his guardian, "Do you miss him? Gabranth, I mean."

Like before, Basch snapped himself out of his 'trance,' in order to face the seated boy, "I was... simply devastated when he died, right there in front of me. I do miss him... I loved him dearly."

"Even though he betrayed you, impersonated you, and even held you as his prisoner? How could you still love your own family after such a thing happened?"

Basch did not know how to approach the challenge, instead retorting with, "But look at what your own brother did... he was the cause behind the war. The reason Lord Raminas, and Prince Rasler are dead... and do you not still love him?"

Larsa seemed struck by the words, and he did not respond at first... carefully analyzing every possible meaning behind the statement, seeing if there were some hidden meaning behind which his guardian tried to trick him. There did not seem to be any whatsoever, so he deemed it safe to respond as normal. "I..."

He barely had time to respond when the two doors were suddenly thrown open, clattering loudly against the wall. In ran an armored middle-aged man who was carrying a dark cloth under his arm. "Emperor Larsa! Judge Gabranth!" The man seemed distraught, almost out of breath.

The two of them slightly jumped, appearing startled. Outraged, Larsa stood up from his seat, both hands lightly slamming on the table. "Borgin! What is so urgent that you interupt my studies?"

The man called Borgin stopped five steps away from the desk, top-portion of his body dipping forward into a bow. He reached a gloved hand upward to rub sweat off of his dark swarthy skin. "My lords... our caravans have been attacked... nearly everyone is dead."

Almost instantly, Basch stepped forward, though remembered to keep a calm air about him. He was, after all, supposed to be his brother, "Caravans attacked? By who?"

Borgin continued, "We aren't precisely sure, Your Honor, but one of my scouts tore this from one of their dead men." He halted long enough to hold up the dark cloth, which turned out to be a tunic. It was of dark purple color, the symbol across the breast being a golden-wrought triangle, with a hatchet and short sword crossed across the middle of which. Both men studied the cloth for a moment, before Borgin lowered it, and continued to speak.

"We are unsure as to exactly how or why they attacked us. But we can tell it was done with military precision. Three caravans were assaulted in less than two hours, each one completely destroyed."

"And the cargo these caravans were holding?" Larsa questioned.

"Only one caravan was actually carrying food and medical supplies, all of which was otherwise untouched. Instead of salvaging it, we burnt everything, for fear of it being poisoned by the assailants. We can only assume that this was meant to get our attention. But as I've said, it could be anyone, and for any reason."

This time, Basch chimed in with, "But hold a moment, you said 'nearly everyone' has died. You mean to tell me there were survivors?"

Borgin nodded, "From both parties. Only two of our men from the caravan holding the food survived, they're both being treated in the hospital wing. And only one of the assassins slipped up, and was captured by my party. He's down in the cell,a waiting to be executed."

Almost in an instant, Larsa had stood up, and advanced upon the other man, "There will be no executions, not until I've spoken with him myself."

Basch was right behind the Emperor, "But sire, he--"

"Silence, Gabranth! Borgin, I want you to look into this matter. Take a small platoon of your best men, and scout the area where the caravans were attacked. Also, send several men around Archadia to question people about this "group." Anything, even a name, will help us. We cannot do anything until we learn more about our enemy. As for me, I'm going to question this man myself. Now, go."

With one final bow to both men, Borgin was gone to attend to his assigned task. Exchanging only a brief nod with Basch—to ensure he would question him no more-- he started out of the door, Basch willingly in tow, servants and scribes alike stepping aside to the wall, giving a curtsy to the Emperor, and Judge Magister.


	2. Solve the Riddle

_**Unexpected Aftershock**_

_A Final Fantasy XII fiction._

Author's Notes

Thank you for the reviews, its nice to know that one's work is favored. I have to admit, the only real problems I have are coming up with original names. But regardless, I do try my hardest, and I hope all who read this enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it.

On a last note, I noticed I forgot the disclaimer, whoops. I'll include it on this chapter, so for the love of all that is holy, do not sue me, please.

_Disclaimer_

Final Fantasy XII is owned by Square Enix. All characters, names, places, events, along with the game itself and all related merchandise are also the property is Square. I am gaining, nor intending to gain any sort of profit from writing this; it is intended for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 2

**Solve the Riddle**

The man sat upon the stone chair, uncomfortable as it was, he barely seemed to mind what it was crafted from. He was an elderly man, perhaps in his late fifties, sporting armor that was dented here and there, worn down no doubt due to previous battles. Much of his face was covered with a long flowing white beard, the top of his head covered with a jewel-adorned helmet. He looked upon a knelt figure before the throne with an obvious hatred, eventually speaking in a rasping voice, "Well than, Morgrin, what is the report?"

The knelt man rose to a full height of six-foot-three, his entire body hidden in a flowing lavender cloak, a symbol of a hatchet and sword crossed at the center of a triangle. His hood was pulled back to reveal mild-toned skin, short hair spiked backwards, and of an eerie orange color. "The attacks succeeded, Lord Gunther. We poisoned the supplies we found, and left behind a small party to be sure that the supplies were taken. However... one fool missed a step, and he was captured by a search party."

At that, the elder man bolted up from his chair, deep eyes widening in shock, "He was captured? You fool, Morgrin! Why did you not kill them?"

Morgrin smirked, "Do not misunderstand me, my lord. I would have, but the party was too vast for me to handle."

"Bite your forked tongue Morgrin, and get to the point!"

"As you wish, Lord Gunter." The assassin bent forward in a mocked bow, before continuing. "The caravans were more heavily armed than we anticipated, and they put up a decent fight. However, our small ships were able to intercept the couriers carrying the goods."

Gunther slowly ran a gnarled finger through his beard, drinking in the information at hand. "It would seem the Empire takes better precautions than we thought. And if one of our own is really captured... then it could all be over soon. You bring me only disaster, Morgrin."

The other man did not reply at first, instead only staring off at the walls, made of the finest marble. He was tired of running around underground, which was exactly where their lair was. After a moment, he turned back to his superior with that same sneer, "Trust me, my lord... my man will not be easily interrogated, even under threat of death."

"I only pray that you are right, Morgrin. Be that as it may, this is still a foiled plan... I have other plans for you, Morgrin. But first, I am expected another guest. Now wait outside, if you please."

Morgrin once again gave a slight bow, turning upon one boot and headed for the door. He turned it open, and at once was face to face with a green-skinned bangaa. The hume stepped aside, letting the lumbering creature in, before he stepped outside with the door behind him.

"You are late," Gunther replied in an irritated tone.

"I would have been here sooner, but your blasted messenger boy couldn't even find the entrance to Lowtown. And even then, his directions were less than adequate." The creature responded. "Now why have I dragged myself all the way out here, Gunther?"

"I need you and your... men to assist me with something. The Empire has captured one of my men, and are probably threatening him for our location as we speak. One of my spies tell me that 'Emperor' Larsa has dispatched a scouting party around where the caravans were attacked. Another of my men in Rabanastre says that friends of his, two orphans, are on their way there, and will be passing over the area shortly. What I want you to do, is to attack the group when they land due south of here. This will catch the attention of those two orphans... kidnap them."

The bangaa stood in silence, analyzing each detail, and already pondering how he was going to go about it. "And how do you expect me to do this when your own men failed? I'm not a brainless pawn."

"I'll be more than happy to bolster your forces with my own. It will not be much, mind you. But it should be more than enough to succeed in your task."

There was a pause, the air heavy with uncomfortable silence. Then...

"Aye, I'll do it."

Gunther seemed satisfied with the answer, and made a gesture with his wrinkled hand, "Then go, and bring me those two orphans... and do not fail me."

* * *

The large transport ship slowly veered off on one side, the pilot slowly steering the craft to land upon a flat plain. Their location was somewhere upon the southern coast, some five miles from the ocean. It was a sparkling blue dot not far from the landing site. With a ground-shaking thud, the ship landed upon the tuft of dirt, a large door sliding open on one side to let in a cool breeze.

"All right, men, let's move." Spoke a fully armored officer, his face hidden by a large horned helmet.

In single file, two lines of imperial soldiers filed off of the ship, lining up two perfectly straight lines, flanking the one at the head. The apparent commander turned around, looking over his men, before making a signal to the pilot. With a brief nod, the pilot took the transport into the air, and was soon gone as quickly as he had come.

"Captain Borgin! Look there!" Pointed out a soldier at the head of the flank, pointing out ahead of the group.

Borgin turned, removing his helm in order to get a better view. Laid before them was the smoldering remains of what was once an airship. Dead bodies of humes, bangaas, and seeqs were scattered here and there, poor souls who died by various means. The air was of strange oder, smoke from the ruins mixing with the dead bodies all around them. Certainly not a site for the faint hearted. And certainly not where any of them had wished to be, but it had to be done. They had to find out what was going on, before more innocents were killed.

"All right, everyone follow me. But keep your eyes open; there's no telling if those bastards are still here." Borgin commanded, then started forward, the soldiers right behind him.

As silently as they possibley could, the soldiers slowly moved forward behind their commander, jumping at the smallest thing that moved. The further and further the group got to the central wreckage, the stench of death quickly over-lapped all other smell. Once and again, a soldier would extend their weapon to jab a corpse, just to make sure it was in fact, a corpse. It certainly did not do the men justice when the body rolled over from the jab, giving the illusion that the warrior was still alive. The airship was mostly still intact, only having several splits in the sides, and on the wings. Half of it was concealed in the smoke which always belched from within the insides.

Borgin suddenly halted in his steps, turning to face his troops, "All right, listen up." He made hand gestures to the surrounding landscape, "I want you all to scout every inch within a half-mile radius. Anything that you think would help us identify the assailants. Gods forbid if you find an enemy that is still living, do not kill him. Also, I don't want any of you investigating alone. Go in at least teams of two or more. As for me, I'll stay around the ship, and look around it. Now move."

With that, the soldiers split off and into different parts of the plain, hoping to find a clue, any kind of clue.

* * *

"Won't it be exciting to be in Rabanastre again, Vaan?"

That's all Penelo seemed to talk about, ever since they took off from Archadia. Not that he could blame her; it was her childhood home after all. But it wasn't like they'd be able to do much, anyway. Already he could see the next line of people waiting transport. It was so boring, even frustrating. All he could reply with was,

"Yeah, I can't wait."

"What's wrong, Vaan? You're acting... not like you."

Vaan shook his head, "I don't see why we should get all excited. We won't be able to stay long, anyway."

At this, Penelo's expression seemed hurt, but she quickly wiped it away with a smile, "Well, we can at least drop by Migelo's shop, and see how he's doing. He has to be worried sick about us, don't you think?"

Migelo... he had almost forgotten about the old shopkeeper. Even as Rabanastre came into view, he began to remember. How he and Penelo did nothing but steal for a living, making a living by running errands for the bangaa. And while Migelo had always done his best as a father-figure, he just couldn't keep up with the two blonds. Not to mention the obvious different between races. Aside from that, Migelo was still considered as a friend to the two orphans, so maybe a quick visit wouldn't hurt.

"Sure, we could do that. If we're lucky, there won't be that many people waiting for transport." Came Vaan's reply, carefully guiding the airship down upon its waiting hatches.

After landing, they repeated the process of letting out the passengers, stepping out to see that none were waiting to board. Penelo had found a shipmaster, who told them that Rabanastre was now enforcing a time schedule to anywhere outside of Dalmasca. Penelo was of course, more than thrilled to hear this, and was just about to bound off for Migelo's shop, when...

"Now here's two kids I haven't seen in ages!"

The two blonds whirled around in time to see the bangaa shopkeeper step around their landed ship, wearing a rather happy look upon his old face. "Come here, you two."

Almost at once, Vaan and Penelo had a double-grip upon Migelo's neck, most refusing to let go, even when he started to run out of air.

"It's good to see you, Migelo. We were just about to come see you before we had to leave." Said Penelo.

"How did you even know we were coming?" Vaan asked.

Migelo laughed, "One of the things you were bringing from Archades was a package for me, m'boy. Surely you don't expect a merchant to be able to keep track of his own shipment, do you? And when I heard you two were running transports, I had hoped that you two would be the delivery persons. And here you are!"

To Vaan, it was... odd, standing in the place where he once stole just to survive, speaking with an old friend. It truly felt as though the three hadn't spoken in years, even though it was closer to months. Looking around, he saw the people and races he once lived amongst, children far younger than he who once looked up to him as a hero, but by now have probably all but forgotten him. Heartbroken though it was, there was nothing he could do. He vowed one day to return here with money and other precious things, and give it to those in the slums... those who still live the life he and Penelo once had.

"Well," Migelo suddenly said, "since the air-way's back to Archadia are closed—and you're already here-- why don't you two stay for a while? There's more than enough room in my shop, and I'm sure Kytes would be glad to hear it."

This is where Penelo's voice changed from happy, to somewhat down, "Sorry Migelo, but we can't. We're supposed to report back to Archades with a filled out report of everything and everyone we shipped. If we don't, then we'll be dropped from service, without pay."

"Ah, of course, of course. In that case, you shouldn't stay here much longer, then." The bangaa's voice carried an obvious hint of disappointed, though he understood that work beckoned.

"How's Kytes doing, anyway?" Vaan quickly tried to change the subject, in hopes that it would steer the less-than-happy mood away. And just as he hoped, Migelo instantly perked up.

"Ah, the boy's doing fine. Still disappears on his own accord now and then, and sometimes I even need to send a customer after him. But despite that, he always gets his chores done. Becoming more and more like you every day, Vaan. He really looks up to you."

"And the shop?" Penelo added.

"The same as you would expect. Might just be my imagination, but it seems that more and more people are crowding into the stores. What with the Imperials back where they belong, people are more at ease than they were before. Things are slowly returning to normal, it seems."

Now that he actually stopped and looked around, Vaan did notice something different in the air. All he could remember was the time during Vayne's reign, when Imperials stalked every street. People always walked slower than usual, thinking that if they even breathed wrong, they would have soldiers barking at their heels. It was pathetic, the very reason why Vaan desired to become a sky pirate... to help those who could not help themselves. Because of this, he almost looked up to Balthier, since that is what the man and his partner claimed to do. Even now, he could hear the words in his mind:

"_We only steal from those who deserve it."_

But then, who was to say who "deserved" to be stolen from?

"Yes, but this old one has rambled on quite long enough. The two of you should get going. Don't want you two getting into trouble." Migelo said.

"You're right..." Penelo spoke with a sense of hesitance, not wanting to leave her former home again. "But we'll be back when we're not working. It'll be good to sit down and... talk again. We've really missed you, Migelo."

"We'll try and be back tomorrow. Hopefully the base will find some extra pilots, and we can call in sick, or something." Vaan threw in, still hoping to lighten the mood before they left.

Migelo nodded, pulling the orphans into one last hug, "I'll hold you both to it, then. Now go." He ushered them toward the ship.

Ever reluctant, they boarded the small ship, turning around in time to see Migelo wave them off, before the doors sealed shut with a hiss of air. Vaan hit a small switch, the entire area in front of the two pilots lighting up in an array of different lights. Then they took off, putting a good distance between them and Rabanastre.

Once they were in the air and on a straight course back to Archadia, Penelo looked up from filing their shipment report for the day, "Vaan... don't you feel bad?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, suddenly dropping in, only to tell Migelo that we had to leave?"

"Of course I feel bad. He took care of both of us, didn't he?"

Penelo looked back down at the report, resuming her writing, "Yes, he did. Your voice just... didn't seem like you cared. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine... really, there's nothing to worry about." There was a pause, he heavily exhaling. "It must be all this work. I wanted to be a sky pirate in order to go where I wanted. To get away from Archadia for good. Now here we are, flying one of their ships as though we're once again their slaves! Like two ants under their royal, gold-plated boot! Don't you hate it too, Penelo?

The female shook her head, "Vaan, I..."

Her voice was suddenly cut off as the intercom crackled to life, a small red light signaling that someone was attempting to contact them. A quick view of the radar showed that there was a... rather large ship settled just above them. This time, Vaan took the small device to speak into, but before he could even click it on, a voice came from the speaker,

"Tonberry One, disengage your engines, and disable your weapons system." It sounded like a female voice, but the static overlapped the voice, making it hard to decipher other information.

Vaan spoke into the device, "Under what clearance do you think you have? We're official transport pilots of Archadia, and we've a job to do."

The voice returned, "Just do as we say. Pull up into the docking bay of our ship. Do not try to escape; you're already target by every weapon we have."

Not willing to endanger himself or Penelo, he threw down the device, and flipped a line of switches just to his left. A soft whirring noise indicated that the vessel's weapons were disabled. Taking a slow right turn, the ship came out in front of the smaller one, both pilots abruptly gasping.

"Vaan... that's..." She was clearly breathless.

"Isn't that the..."

* * *

"Majesty, do you really think this is such a good idea?"

"I've already told you, Basch. I will find out the answers for myself."

No surprise there. It was more difficult to get through Larsa's head than he first anticipated. Already, they were descending a dark cobblestone stairway that lead into the deepest parts of the dungeon. This area being reserved for only the most severe of criminals, was well-known for people being sentenced to die down there, which in turn even keeps the wardens away. Larsa, however, didn't seem to care, as he was always several steps in front of Basch, marching deeper and deeper into the darkness. It was both a strange and an inspiring thing to see: a child willingly venturing where grown men dared not. With that knowledge, Basch would stay at the boy's side, no matter what happened.

When they finally hit the bottom step, the air was thick due to being so deep underground, making it almost unbearable to stay in. Basch almost pitied the souls who were forced to stay here. "Now, where is the prisoner being held?" Larsa asked to a lightly armored warden. The man lead them to the farthest cell away from the stairs, where inside, bound around his ankles, sat a man. The man reminded Basch of what he used to look like as his brother's prisoner. Messy, tangled blonde hair, with a matching uncombed bears that covered the entire line of his chin up to his head. He was shirtless; Basch assumed the tunic in Borgin's arms was what he used to wear.

"So you're the one they're after... I see." Said the prisoner, eyes fixed directly upon Larsa.

Never faltering, Larsa demanded, "Open the cell, warden."

"But, Emperor--"

"I said open the gate!"

Without another word, the warden fumbled with his keys, unlocking the cell door and stepping aside. Larsa went in, Basch right behind him. Once they were in, the warden re-locked the cell. He obviously thought that if the prisoner killed the two, he'd still be unable to get away.

"I'll get right to the point then, scum. Who do you work for, and why are they after me?"

The prisoner smirked, never moving, even though he could easily attack the two; only his ankles were shackled to the wall, and the chains were rather long. "It does not matter... they are close. So close to you now. It won't be long before they strike."

Basch was the first to step closer, a hand already reaching for a sword at his side, "Answer the question, or die."

But Larsa also stepped in, waving a hand for Basch to back down. But even at the threat of death, the prisoner only laughed, in a rather mad fashion. "My death will mean little in the long run. I'm but a hired hand, nothing more."

"So you're a mercenary? A sell-sword? Who hired you? Speak up!" Demanded Larsa, once again.

"The flame haired one... is close... he will strike soon, yes? But strike from here? Here? There? Where will you be? Perhaps eating your morning breakfast, or lost deep in your dreams. HAHAHAHAHA."

This man was clearly mad, as it was obvious to both Basch, and to Larsa. Already, Basch had drawn his sword, holding the tip down towards the floor, ready to strike.

The man continued his mad rant, "They will find you... they will kill you... and your head will be flied as our banner! They come, yes... the Shadowed Claw... they come..."

"Shadowed Claw? Is that your group's name?" Questioned Basch.

"Maybe... maybe not... but it is known... is your inevitable death!" Now, he burst up from his knelt position, intending to harm Larsa in whatever way that he could. But he never saw it coming, burning silver met with flesh, rending into bone and striking through his heart, fresh crimson ooze leaking from either end of the hole. Basch removed his sword as the man fell to the ground, and he was no more.

"Thank you, Basch. You truly are a good guardian, though I regret he had to die." Larsa said, as he stepped around the man, who had placed himself between the Emperor, and the prisoner.

Basch used a tattered piece of cloth in the cell to clean his weapon, then returned it to his belt, "We learned little from him."

"Not so, Basch. He mentioned something about a fiery haired being... Do you think he meant an assassin with hair bright like fire?"

"I do not know, Your Majesty. He was mad, and could have meant any number of things."

"And he also mentioned another name... Shadowed Claw... do you think it is a name?"

"It could also be a title," replied Basch, "the name of their organization, no doubt."

Larsa frowned, "All the more reason I did not want the man to die. Still, it is as good a start as we can ask for." The warden let them out of the cell, and the pair once again started for the stairs.

"So what should we do now, Highness?" Basch asked as they ascended.

"When Vaan and Penelo come back... I want them found. I'll arrange another small party to ask around... find out what the people know of the Shadowed Claw, or if they heard of any flame haired person, or being... so find out where those two are at once, while I think of what else we can do."

"Yes, Lord Larsa."

* * *

"Report."

"Captain Borgin, so far we haven't found much else than dead bodies and whatever they possessed, sir."

Laid before Borgin there were several piles. Upon one, there was many of the same purple colored tunics with the same golden design upon them. In another, there were weapons of many types, swords, shields, spears, axes... each of which were beautifully adorned with fancy designs, along with the same symbol upon the hilts of the sword and on the shields as on the tunics. Borgin assumed they made their own equipment and clothing.

"It's not much to go by, but I suppose Lord Larsa will want to know that they make their own weapons and armor. Explains why there haven't been many raids... they'd have to have a massive fund if they were to purchase this sort of equipment."

"Your orders, sir?"

"Keep looking. There must be something else here... something more."

The officer then darted off, joining another party in scouring over the area. The wind had picked up, carrying the strong sea salt air of the ocean over them, managing to raise their spirits, if only a little bit. The peaceful environment however, would not last. Not five minutes later, explosions started to go off all around them, sending fire and smoke into the air, causing confusion amongst the Imperials. Everywhere, the men scrambled to locate their weapons and helmets. Before too much longer, there was thick smog surrounding the group, and it didn't help that the smoke from the wreckage was still spiraling upwards.

"What's going on here!" Borgin exclaimed, removing a long spear from his back.

"A merry little school of fish we have here!" Came a voice from the smoke.

All eyes turned toward the area, just south of where Borgin was facing, to see a group of armored bangaa and humes emerge from the mist. Not just from the south, but all around, there came more and more soldiers, enclosing the Imperials, and backing them up against the wreckage. But what truly shocked the group, was the green skinned bangaa that stepped in behind a pair of heavily armored humes, a buzz-saw lance clutched in his fists.

"So you're the ones Lord Gunther wanted! Perfect, you fell right into my net! I hope you had a good life, because its about to end!"

Borgin seemed utterly shocked, lowering his weapon for just a moment. "It can't be... Ba'Gamnan!"


	3. The Valiant

_**Unexpected Aftershock**_

_A Final Fantasy XII fiction. _

Author's Notes

At last I've found time to work on yet another chapter. Again I apologize to all who were waiting for this, but I simply do not believe in rushing one's work, as the end result is only half of what the author intended it to be. But here it is at last, the third chapter.

NOTE: There will also be a slightly graphic fight scene in this chapter. Just a small heads-up.

Chapter 3

**The Valiant**

* * *

"Enter," 

The stone door slowly swung open without a sound, and in trotted a young-looking man, hair falling clear over his shoulders, blue as the sky. He too was dressed in a simple heavy cloak of purple stitching, with the symbol etched in gold across the chest. "Lord Gunther," was the curt reply, along with a small bow.

Gunther smiled behind his long beard, gesturing with his hands for the stranger to come closer, "Ah, Xerthus. I was beginning to think you'd never come"

"You summoned me, and I obeyed." He kept his voice low, and his eyes to the floor.

"Ever a loyal soldier... I like that..." Gunther began to slowly stroke his chin, seemingly forgetting that the other man was even there.

"What is your will, Your Excellency?"

The elder man snapped out of his trance and began to stand, but a mad coughing fit interrupted him, and instantly fell back into the chair. Before Xerthus could reply, another door in the back of the room flew open, out of which came the most stunning woman any ever had seen. A viera with hair like liquid silver spilling clear down her body past the belt line, dressed in simply a small corset that barely covered her entire mid-region. She was instantly at the side of the still coughing Gunther, one arm moving about his shoulders, the other to his cheek.

"My lord, are you well?" Her voice was smooth, like freshly woven silk.

After a moment of feigned coughing, Gunther nodded, "I am all right, Kirai..."

The viera nodded, though refused to leave his side.

Gunther waved a dismissive hand, "Go on, my dear. I shall be with you shortly."

Though ever reluctant, Kirai nodded, and sauntered back into the back, the door following behind her.

Throughout the entire endeavor, Xerthus had not said a word. In fact, he hadn't even moved, giving the impression that he was a stature; a mighty sentinel who watched over his lord.

"Rise, Xerthus, for I have orders for you."

The man did as such, rising from his knelt position, and locking eyes with the elder man. "What is your will?" He repeated.

"I believe it is time to awaken a sleeping monster. Take your men and march into Archades, flying the flag of Dalmasca. Convoy to the lord that you are an envoy from Lady Ashe, and once you are in the center of the city with Larsa drawn out, strike."

There was a pause, then Xerthus spoke up. "You would send me on a suicide mission, my lord?"

Gunther shook his head, "You do not think you could escape the city?"

"Not if I were in the center of it."

This time, Gunther narrowed his eyes, "Are you questioning me, Xerthus? You are but a tool to me, I can easily replace--..."

The man was cut off as the door before the throne was once again thrust open, orange hair instantly catching the attention of Gunther, who shot up from his chair in disgust, "Morgrin! How DARE you barge in here like that! I shall have you beaten to an inch of your life!"

As always, the assassin wore a cocky smirk, "Peace, my lord. I simply wanted to inform you that my men are ready to move out."

Gunther calmed at that, if only a little. "Then why are you standing here? Be gone from my sight, and take care of your duties."

"As you wish, Lord Gunther." With a last bow, Morgrin's body blinked twice, then disappeared.

Xerthus simply put his back to Gunther, and started for the still open door. "I shall do what you command, my lord."

Gunther barely had time to reply, as the door instantly shut itself behind the blue-haired man. Still, he couldn't help but let a grin show amidst the graying beard, "Soon... very soon.." he muttered.

Out in the training hall, it was loud and very noisy. A group of humes had gathered around two seeq who were rapidly throwing themselves at one another, maces and fists flying. But one hume stood out from the others; a woman with hair of chestnut color, which freely fell in the back, and even hung low against her brow. Like Xerthus and Morgrin, the lavender cloak was thrown against her form, though the deep sleeves were cut out to leave her arms bare to the shoulders, along with a small slice down the chest, revealing at best, but still hiding just enough flesh.

"So what did he say?" Said she when that all-too familiar blue hair came into view.

"I am to take my men and head into Archades."

The woman sneered in annoyance, "Suicide mission, huh? What is the old fool thinking?"

He shook his head, "Beside the point, Silmeia. We are his servants, and we will not betray him."

"Ever the loyal soldier, huh Xerthus?" She reflected Gunther's words with a huff, "Not that it matters, but why are you even going? Besides the obvious, I mean."

Xerthus shook his head. "I want Larsa dead and Archadia crushed just as much as Gunther does. But what about you? Why do you do this?"

Silmeia considered the question, then laughed. "I have my own reasons, of which I shall keep to myself."

Xerthus shrugged, "So be it. I must go and prepare." Without another word, he brushed past the woman, and disappeared further into the back. The woman watched him over her shoulder, then turned back around to watch the commotion around her.

* * *

Heavy armored boots rapidly thudded and clanged against the marble ground, the helmeted figure moving as fast as the heavy armor would allow him to move. At the sight of him, people of different class moved out of his way, and Imperial soldiers and guards saluted him in the traditional way when he passed. He made no noticeable acknowledgment back to them, and instead continued on his way. When he reached his destination—two large double doors-- he immediately threw them open and marched in. The room was spacious at best, with the Emperor sitting at a desk in the center, surrounded by various persons.

"Ah, Gabranth, there you are." Replied the young lord, and gestured with his hand. Whether he said it out of reflex due to the armor or simply to protect the man's identity was not known. Regardless, the Judge Magister walked in, still keeping the brisk, and noisy pace.

"My lord," he said once he stood before the desk, "I've dispatched several parties throughout the city to learn whatever they could. Only recently have all the tips come back to us."

Larsa instantly rose him his seat at that, sending the persons surrounding him out of the room. Once they were gone, he nodded. "What do you know, Basch?"

The Judge removed his helmet, tucking it beneath his left arm. "Most of the tips are anonymous, though are are extremely helpful. It seems that this 'Shadowed Claw' is indeed a resistance faction. They fly their own banner along with Dalmasca's, and--"

"Dalmasca?" Larsa was clearly shocked. "That is outrageous! We had signed a peace treaty with the Lady Ashe. Why does she allow this to happen?"

"That is where it grows more disturbing, Majesty. Other sources indicate that maybe they missed the word on when the war was over. Some speculate that they believe Dalmasca lost, and they are picking up the reins of battle once more."

The Emperor was stunned, though did not let himself lose face, "Does Lady Ashe know of this?"

"We've received no word from Her Majesty as of yet, though I arranged a message be sent to her."

"That is not good enough, Basch... I would feel more comfortable seeing Lady Ashe in person and informing her myself."

"But Lord Larsa, you cannot leave Archadia, especially not during such times. As it is--..."

"Enough, Basch." He stopped the man with a stern glare. "I want you to have the _Leviathan _shipped with enough provisions to a two days trip; one to Dalmasca, one back here. Of course, I'll not go unprepared, so arrange a few soldiers and supportive ships to come along as well. You will accompany me, of course. As for the notion on my absence, it will be all right. I've already informed someone to stay here and watch Archades while I am away."

Basch wante so badly to object, or even question exactly who this 'someone' was. It could have been a number of people, really. But he could not say a word, or object in any way, as Larsa was now his emperor. He bowed, and placed the horned helmet back onto his head. "As you wish, my lord. I shall have everything ready by tomorrow."

Larsa nodded, "Good, as that is when I plan to leave; tomorrow."

With one last bow, Basch turned and departed the room, already wondering where to start on his arrangements.

* * *

The situation was certainly not looking good for Borgin and his men. By now, they were backed clear against the wreckage of a large ship, all means of escape blocked by the bounty hunters and mercenaries. Still, Borgrin kept a strong face, clutching the ungodly large spear held out in front of himself, threatening to pierce whatever came within striking distance.

"So you will not give up and die, I see. I must say, that is something new coming from Imperials." Ba'gamnan shouted, clearly enjoying this moment.

"You know nothing of our duties, you disgusting bounty hunter!" Retorted Borgrin, "Don't forget, you once worked for us."

The bangaa shot back with a snarl, "And hated every moment of it. I was a fool to shackle myself to a useless sack of spineless cowards."

"You are the one who ran away after you attempted to kill Lord Larsa, knowing full well who he was. I'm ashamed Judge Gabranth did not kill you when he had the chance. No matter, I shall do it myself; you were a fool to come here."

"Boldness will only lead to death, Borgin. And its high time you met your end! **KILL THEM!**"

With that, the assaulting party charged toward the Imperials, who at Borgrin's command, rushed out to meet them before they were closed in and trapped.

As the two forces clashed together, a wave of noises battered the air. Swords upon swords clattering together, gunshots ringing in the air, the occasional ball of fire of ice spear striking down a poor soul. It was for the better part of a word, chaos.

Borgrin quickly entered the fray, throwing up his weapon at a horizontal angle to block the sword of another hume, before an armored boot met the man's gut and he fell to the ground. He would then spin around, moving fast despite his heavy armor, and thrusting the spear out to catch a bangaa in the neck, a spurt of blood resounding from the wound as the creature fell over, dead. Another spin, and he caught another bangaa racing towards him, sword drawn. Borgin rushed out to meet him halfway, the spear jutting out into the bangaa's gut and out his back on the other side.

It surprised Ba'gamnan just how easily the Imperials fell under his might. Almost instantly he had taken the lives of two soldiers with one swipe of the weapon, the buzz saw cutting into their armor and splitting their chests. When another tried to attack him from behind, the bangaa simply snapped his claw out, digging the talons into the exposed neck; an instant kill, and threw the man to the ground. He snarled, showing rows of teeth filed to points, as the lance was once again thrust out, claiming the head of yet another hume. A fountain of blood gushed up from the wound, and the corpse fell over.

Everywhere where was death. The Imperials were outmatched three to one, and for the better part, their opponents were better trained, this evident from how fiercely they fought. Though they were even in terms of weapons, the mercenaries' army hardly seemed to be dented, much less pierced. It protected them well. Near the back of the line, a small group of rifleman were firing shots out into the fray, though did little more than slightly wound whatever they hit. 'Bullet-proof armor... they came prepared,' Borgin thought to himself once he witnessed this. Further in the back of the line, mages constantly charged various low-level magicks, and slowly thinned the ranks of the oppressers. But like before, it barely did any good. The enemies seemed to just keep coming.

Never once did Borgin stop, always he was moving, taking the life of whatever came before his eyes. Another thrust of his spear and a hume soldier came down. However, he didn't see the second soldier to his left, which quickly brought his ax down upon Borgin's arm. Thankfully, his armor was thick as a turtle's shell, so the ax did not remove the arm, only cutting deeply into the flesh. With a yell of pain and anger, Borgin removed a mytrhil blade from his side, snapping it out at the ax-wielding soldier, taking his life. Despite his injury, he jumped right back into the fray, now swinging both spear and sword about in a mad frenzy, felling soldier, after soldier.

The weapon was thrust left and right many times, the deadly buzz saw claiming the lives of whatever got in its way. The bangaa's green skin was now soaked in blood, giving it an eerie color when mixed with the crimson stains. He loved the flow of battle, how everything and everyone was dying all around him. It was what drove him insane, yet how he derived pleasure from it. Still clutching the weapon, he was about to throw himself into a tangle of imperials, when he and Borgin's eyes met.

Almost instantly, they charged towards one another, spear striking spear. Yet the ever-spinning buzz saw knocked Borgin's weapon aside, and was thrust forward once more, only to be knocked upward by the mytrhil blade. This process was repeated time and time again, neither force seeming to give ground. Each time Borgin went to strike, it was deflected or dodged entirely. Ba'gamnan could barely touch the man, as he used two weapons, and thus could easily block. The two came together yet again, holding their weapons and pushing them together in an effort to throw the other off balance, or to the ground. An airship rumbled overhead, though no one payed attention to it. Each side assumed it was one of their own.

Ba'gamnan snarled, "I'm tired of playing games with you, hume."

Borgin did not reply, though added more pressure to his weapons, trying so hard to knock the bounty hunter off his feet. But to no avail. Borgin took a single step forward, and that was his biggest mistake. Ba'gamnan kicked the remaining leg out from underneath the hume, sending him onto his back in a loud clatter of steel. Before he could even recover, he was met face to face with that deadly buzz saw, the bangaa wickedly grinning on the other end of it.

"Looks like the Empire is finished. And here I thought you were to kill me?"

Borgrin blinked, "You... you work for the resistance, don't you?"

"To an extent. Lord Gunther hired me. He is the leader of the 'resistance,' the Shadowed Claw."

"Shadowed Claw..." Borgin glared up at the creature, "Where do they hide? What are they hoping to accomplish?"

Ba'gamnan grinned wickedly, "They hide amongst you, though you will never find them. Now, pray to your gods, for you shall meet them soon."

He then swung the weapon around for the deathblow, when a sudden explosion shook the ground.

All eyes turned upward to the ship which hovered high above them, even Ba'gamnan was momentarily distracted, Borgrin using this chance to grab his blade and move away from the dangerous lance.

The fighting stopped, and a brief silence settled over the land, each person wondering who this airship intended to aid, and exactly who could be piloting it. The question was answered when the left side of it flared in bright light, as its cannons were fired upon the mercenaries, three explosions once again shaking the ground as corresponding fireballs ripped open their ranks. The soldiers tried to turn and run, but a gatling gun across the bottom of the ship only shredded them as they crossed the line of fire. The ship lowered closer to the ground, when suddenly two behemoth grappling hooks—resembling ships anchors-- were fired from two of the cannons. Each hook struck the ground with loud thuds, digging deep into the dirt and connected with thick metal lines. Four figures, two on each line, began to slide down from the ship at a wicked fast pace. As they neared, a sudden gunshot erupted from one of the figures, then another, and another, each time a different foe was felled. A sudden flurry of arrows took the lives of several more enemies. And when the first two figures hit the bottom of the line, they eyed their foes, the first one speaking with a cocky grin.

"Well now, I believe the leading man has made his appearance."

It was Balthier, and Fran.

"You again!" Ba'gamnan shouted, already being thrown into a rage, "I thought never to see your face again!"

Balthier snorted, "Still at it, Ba'gamnan? I must say, its really quite sad. Why don't you run home to your master with your tail between your legs?"

"We shall see who is the one running, sky pirate!"

The next two figures to leap off of the hook lines were of course the two Rabanastre orphans, Vaan clutching a deadly looking ax. "Now THIS is REAL fun." He exclaimed.

Then the fighting resumed, seemingly more fearsome than it was before.

Vaan immediately jumped into the first group of soldiers that he saw, swinging the ax around with such a skill he never knew he possessed. It quickly brought down a seeq who aimed a broadsword for his neck, only to turn around and clip off the arm of another bangaa. He got so caught up in the moment, he didn't notice a second bangaa lumber up to him, sword at the ready. Vaan whirled around just in time to see an arrow pierce the creature's neck from the back, sticking clear out in the front and pouring blood. "Thanks, Fran!"

"Do not foolishly fight, Vaan. Keep your enemies in sight." Said the viera.

Penelo had stayed behind the others, her body constantly giving off the soft glow of magick. She constantly threw a barrage of fire and thunder at the enemies, saving more potent spells for any that managed to fight their way closer to her. At her side she kept a dagger at the ready, just for when she ran out of magick power. Though she disliked fighting, she knew it was for the greater good.

Balthier did not necessarily stay away from the major points of battle. He ran here and there, firing off shots from his gun, using the butt-end to bash unsuspecting enemies in the face when they were not looking. A dirty trick perhaps. But then again, he was a pirate; he didn't know the meaning of fair play. When someone swung a weapon at him, and it was too heavy or sharp to deflect with his gun, he either shot the poor bastard in the face, or ducked, and rolled out of the way, much to his discontent of 'soiling his cuffs again.'

Fran also stayed away from the front, not too far from Penelo. Always was her bow nocked with an arrow, sometimes two, before they were fired into the waiting soldiers before them. Any one that came before her perhaps imagined her in a different fashion before they were struck down with an arrow to the heart or head. She cared not what others thought of her; she'd never stoop to so low a level. Just near her feet was her quiver of arrows, which she eventually sunk to kneeling on one knee to reach the arrows more quickly.

It appeared that the sight of the four newcomers gave the Imperials more hope, as they now fought more fiercely than ever before. Though Vaan strongly disliked fighting alongside Imperials; where neither he or Penelo ever thought they would. After what seemed like mere seconds, the mercenaries were pushed further back, as the previous shots from the _Strahl _took out a good hunk of their standing forces. This allowed the Imperials and those who fought alongside them to quickly whittle down their flanks.

Vaan constantly threw himself at any enemy, though not recklessly. He kept his guard up as Fran had warned, striking down whatever came before him, and quickly checking to be sure none were sneaking up on him in an ambush. After taking the head off of another mercenary, he looked up just in time to see Ba'gamnan kill another Imperial. In a rage, he clutched his ax and charged the bangaa, bringing the weapon over his head for a deathblow.

However, it was not to be. Ba'gamnan saw the blond coming well before he even came within striking distance, and threw his own weapon out to catch the ax. Vaan cringed, suddenly regretting this, as the bangaa was far more powerful than he remembered. He wasn't about to back down though, not now at least. For a moment, they both stood there, weapons crossed, and staring each other down. Neither were going to give ground, and the bangaa was beginning to grow tired of playing these games. He knew it was all but over now that Balthier and the others were here, already he could see his men being thinned out quicker and quicker. Still, if he could kill even one of them, he would be satisfied.

A sudden shift of weight, and Ba'gamnan stepped off to the side, causing Vaan to lose his balance and fall forward. He cursed as his weapon slipped out of his sweating hand and started to attempt a recovery, but Ba'gamnan quickly landed a foot into his chest, both knocking the wind out of him, and sending him flat into the dirt.

"Enough of this! Hurry up and die, filthy orphan scum!" He wasted no time in raising his weapon to finish off the boy once and for all. But the blow would never connect.

Mere moments before Vaan was to be killed, two arrows soared over his head, both piercing themselves into the bangaa's gut. Not two seconds later, Balthier stepped from behind a flank soldiers, and fired a single shot into Ba'gamnan's arm holding the weapon. And finally, a small spike of ice shot straight as an arrow through the air, landing itself in Ba'gamnan's other arm. Vaan quickly used this moment to stumble away, disappearing behind a group of Imperials.

Severely injured and bleeding in several places, Ba'gamnan clutched his weapon tightly, and ran fast as he could away from the battle. "Retreat, you fools! This battle will be the end of us all!"

What little bit of mercenaries that were left instantly turned around and followed their leader away from the battle. Before too much longer they had disappeared into the hills.

Borgin stomped up towards the sky pirate, a barely noticeable limp in his step, "You could have killed him easily! Now he will return to the Shadowed Claw and only be of further annoyance to us!"

Balthier shrugged, placing the gun over his right shoulder. "I doubt he will be of any use to this 'Shadowed Claw' now that he is not only severely wounded, but also failed to destroy any of us. If he had turned and ran when we arrived, then I would have shot him down."

Borgin only scowled and stomped off to attend to the wounded. "So much for gratitude." The pirate mumbled to his partner, who nodded slowly.

"I don't think we should stay," Came Penelo's voice, "Those men could be back at any time. And I'm sure Larsa will want to hear about this."

"She is right," Fran agreed, "Archadia's ruler must know of those who threaten his throne."

Balthier nodded, "It's settled then. Next stop: Archades."


End file.
